Dreams
by SincerelyShania
Summary: ONESHOT. Angels of the Lord were not created to require sleep, and Castiel was no different. Having little better to do while his comrades rested, he would often watch over Dean as he slumbered; however, when he witnesses Dean suffering from a dream that causes him to lash out in his previously peaceful stupor, he makes it his mission to try and offer some comfort to his friend.


In and out, rising and then falling... Castiel observed silently as the hot-tempered hunter's chest danced along with each inhale and exhale as he slumbered tranquilly on his back-his breathing a soft, rhythmic sound that the angel felt he could fall into his own stupor listening to; that is, if beings such as himself had the ability to rest in such a vulnerable, yet incredibly peaceful, fashion. Having the capability to ease into a soothing unconsciousness just to be greeted by a world of dreams in which an infinite number of fantasies, both desirable and otherwise, could come to life like a movie of internal imagery was a characteristic that not only came naturally to mortals, but was a byproduct of the necessity of sleeping. Yet, to Castiel, this process was merely one more reason to find humanity beautiful, mysterious, and intriguing.

Night after night (at least those in which the Winchester brothers would take out the time to tend to their bodily requirement of getting minimally ample rest), Castiel would often pass the time aimlessly, casually surveying the Men of Letters bunker for any sign of a threat. On a good night, however, Dean would neglect to lock himself in his bedroom out of fatigue or general forgetfulness, permitting for the celestial man to mosey his way in and, against the wishes his first true friend had voiced up to that point, quietly take in the image of his unconscious companion. Try as he might, he had not yet come to comprehend Dean's discomfort at his presence while he was slumbering, as he felt it natural to have the urge to admire that which one finds enthralling; after all, he had watched his friend fall into near unbreakable trances while viewing risque scenes in movies and shows that caught his attention in a fascinating way, so what was distinguishably different about wishing to witness his comrade partake in a spiritually, mentally, and physically remedying activity that he himself could not participate in?

 _"I fear that he truly lacks trust in me after the seemingly countless mistakes I have made,"_ Castiel pondered to himself, beginning to get lost amongst his musings. _"I imagine my presence to be unsettling, especially when he is in such a vulnerable state, seeing as he mustn't have the ease of mind to know, whole-heartedly, that I pose no threat to him and Sam. Taking into consideration the many betrayals and paths paved with good intentions that have ended in greater suffering and confusion for us all, I cannot blame Dean if he feels as though I should not be trusted entirely. I am at a loss as to how I could begin repairing his confidence in someone like myself, but then, I suppose the real question begs to answer if I am even worthy of his forgiveness or reliance. Never has it been my intention to do harm to our bond, but still, for so long we have been here, with him unable to even trust me to be at his side while he is lost to his dre-"_

Were Castiel capable of being more easily startled, he might have jumped at the spontaneous and wildly unpredictable motions that abruptly pulled him from his thoughts and took control of Dean's previously limp body, if the elder Winchester brother's intensely erratic jerking and flailing could so simply be categorized as fitful movement. The infamous hunter clawed and punched desperately at the air, fiercely kicking at an unseen assailant all the while. Predominantly incomprehensible pleas for mercy and agonized moans escaped through his gritted teeth, beads of sweat quickly accumulating on his forehead.

Castiel remained silently immobile momentarily, attempting to gauge the situation appropriately before taking action. Although he frequently found himself forgetting this fact while accompanying the brothers on their journeys, he was no human. With each new experience and feeling, it became increasingly arduous, if not impossible, for him to separate himself from the humanity he longed to comprehend on a personal level, not solely by observation; however, moments such as the scene unfolding before him served as a reminder that he was, ultimately, an angel of the Lord. Witnessing Dean hysterically fighting his way through his slumber, Castiel could conclude, logically, that his friend must have been experiencing dreadful dreams, yet when even the sensation of sleep itself was foreign to him, he felt he could not begin to fathom how the world inside one's unconscious mind might translate into their reality.

The winged man continued monitoring the unanticipated situation without interfering for a few moments longer, his eyes rapidly flitting around the room and roving over Dean cautiously, before discerning that it would be a proper instance to intervene, considering that Dean's outburst only seemed to be getting increasingly more aggressive in nature as he became the target of his own assault. In (what would look to the human eyes as) a single swift motion, Castiel appeared at his friend's right side, his right knee propping him up on the bed while his left foot remained planted on the ground and each hand restraining one of Dean's, respectively, in an attempt to restrict his movement.

"Dean, I think it'd be best for you to awaken now," Castiel proclaimed, his stern but gentle voice resounding throughout the room despite him not shouting as he gave the polite order. His benevolent command did not seem to get through to the elder brother, however, with him getting clocked in the jaw when Dean's right leg suddenly jerked upward and his knee made contact with the angel's chin, accompanied by a deep "thunk!" noise. Though virtually unharmed by the attack, Castiel threw himself over Dean's muscular frame, putting one leg on either side of his companion's hips to prevent him from doing any further damage to himself, whether that be by striking his own body or Castiel's sturdy vessel. "Awaken," he demanded again, this time backing his instruction with a breath magic in order to alleviate any room for failure.

At Castiel's good-natured but steadfast directive, the tortured hunter's green eyes hurriedly shot open and searched the darkness of the room frantically. Though conscious, the crippling fear remained evident through his struggling as he continued attempting to break from, what he thought to be, his captor's hold. Realizing his resistance was proving to be a futile venture, he began shouting threateningly:

"Let go of me, you bastard! I'll kill you... I swear to God I'll end your miserable life as slowly and painfully as I possibly can if you don't get off of me right now, you son of a bitch!"

"Well, Dean... I don't believe there's a need for name calling. Please believe me when I say that I was only trying to assist you," Castiel responded in a slightly baffled but apologetic manner, caught off guard by the anger the elder brother seemed to be harboring toward him.

Finally being presented the opportunity to identify Castiel's voice (and one of a kind way of expressing his thoughts), Dean's previously ragged breathing slowed to deep, somewhat relieved, sigh, his vision adjusting to the darkness and allowing him to distinguish the awkward man's general features. "Dammit, Cas! What the hell, man?! Are you trying to send me back to the pit by giving me a heart attack?!"

"I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from Perdition. Why would it be in my interest to send you back into damnation?" Castiel questioned innocently, cocking his head to his left by a small degree. His inquiry earned a couple of prolonged blinks from his disbelieving friend, immediately followed by another, more exasperated, sigh.

"Ugh, not now, Cas. I just woke up on the wrong side of the bed. I need a second before you start, ya know, asking me your... questions."

"Oh, I understand. That must be why you were so agitated while you rested. You should make more of an effort to sleep on the right side to prevent an undesirable event like this from repeating itself in the future."

"What are you...?" Dean began, trailing off as he scanned over what he could make out of Castiel's face in the darkened room. Not sensing an ounce of sarcasm from the celestial being who woke him up in one of the most jarring fashions he could think of, he continued. "No, dude. No. I-It's a figure of speech, like... You know what? Just forget it! Now get off of me and enlighten me as to why you're in my room and straddling me like you want my babies."

"Okay, but I do have one last inquiry," Castiel stated calmly, releasing his ironclad grip on Dean's wrists. "Why, after you appeared to be suffering from such terror, does it feel to me like you are stiff down below? As I understand, this is not a typical reaction to fear or other negative emotions. It remains true that you never cease to intrigue me, Dean."

"Alright, alright, enough, man! First off, don't say shit like that while you're sitting on my junk, or ever, for that matter; second, if I have to tell you to get off of me again, I don't know if you're going to live long enough for me to answer any of your questions!" After finishing his passionate speech, the hot-tempered hunter grasped Castiel by his waist and forcibly tossed him to his left, causing the naive angel to hit the bed and roll onto his back, where he made no effort to reposition himself.

Castiel laid staring at the ceiling momentarily, seemingly attempting to reboot after the personally perplexing events that had unfolded. Getting his wits about him, he turned his head slightly to the right in order to make eye contact with his companion, who was now sitting up and brushing himself off in an overly-dramatic manner. _"Sometimes it seems as though I'll never get a handle on proper social interaction,"_ he thought to himself briefly before his musings were interrupted by Dean speaking once again.

"Okay, Cas, here's how this is gonna down: since you're a curious kid disguised as a man-baby in a trench coat, I'll answer your questions real quick, but then I'm gonna need some detailed answers of my own. Capiche? Fantastic. Well, for starters, you've gotta stop taking everything you hear so literally, dude. Some things you just have to think of more figuratively, you know? If you're wanting to get into the semantics of what a figure of speech is, you're gonna have to go bother Sam about that. Also, the things that were going on inside my head and what was going on with, well... **_my_** thing didn't share a direct connection. Let's talk health class for a sec: human men get something called morning wood from time to time; our rockets just blast off because they're excited to start the day sometimes, if you catch my drift-no fuel needed. Does that just about cover everything, class? Now, pop quiz. Why were you in my room, and, more importantly, why did you have me pinned down while you rode me damn near back to hell? You scared the shit out of me, dude!"

Having wrapped up his lecture, Dean stared through the darkness in Castiel's direction, lightly biting his lip in general anticipation while awaiting a response. Silence settled between the two wayward men, shadows somehow still managing to dance around on the walls of the nearly lightless room. Castiel watched passively as they put on a show, attempting to formulate a reply for his aggressive friend. The right words seemed to escape him, not as a result of the difficulty of the questions but due to his own handicap when expressing himself. Before meeting Dean, he had merely been an obedient weapon to a father who created him just to leave emptiness and confusion in his absence. He wandered through the decades, years rolling by as if they were leaves carried by the wind, there one moment and then swiftly out of sight the next... That is, until he was given an order that would eventually lead him to both doubt and thank his God; he was commanded to pull Dean Winchester from the pits of hell with his own two hands, and so began his fall from Heaven and into the grasp of the man who his grip saved from damnation. Before meeting his comrade, free will was a mirage on the horizon of the desert of time he drifted through-a picture of something that he knew he wanted... no, NEEDED, deep down inside but could not bring himself to admit out of the fear that the hope for freedom would end up disappearing before his eyes, leaving his world even more desolate than before. Now, with his friends at his side, free will was no longer an illusion; it was the rope he used to pull himself out of that lonely, barren desert and into a garden of opportunity and change when he felt his wings could not carry the him and the burden that anchored him to that godforsaken place. Many people would thank the Lord for their blessings, but Castiel had Dean. He had learned much during his escapades alongside the Winchester brothers, including how to feel genuine happiness, sadness, excitement, and grief, but there still remained a long and winding road ahead of him as he tried to translate his new experiences and feelings into outward expression.

Although Dean's vision was significantly limited by the blackness that surrounded them, Castiel's sight proved to be much less inhibited. He watched as Dean rolled his eyes impatiently and mouthed the word "weirdo" before flopping backward onto his pillows, his arms at his sides and his legs stretched out leisurely. The socially awkward angel examined his company, noting how he could still make out the faint sheen on his bare chest caused by the sweat that formed while he thrashed about in his sleep. _"I'm curious as to why human males enjoy resting in nothing except their bottoms, but I sense this would be an inappropriate time to ask about it, seeing as he appears to already be upset about the inquiries I made previously. More importantly, it seems that he wasn't agitated due to sleeping on the wrong side of the bed, which generally confirms that his fit must be tied to an undesirable dream... I cannot help but wonder what affected him so significantly,"_ the winged man quietly pondered before taking a deep breath in and making an effort to explain himself.

"My apologies for startling you. That wasn't my intent, though it is beginning to seem like most of my good intentions yield negative results. I was wandering throughout the bunker when I noticed your bedroom door was not fully shut, so I let myself in. I felt it wouldn't do any harm to scope out the area and make certain that nothing was awry. Things appeared relatively normal until you began lashing around and crying out in your sleep. I refrained from interfering at first, but when you continued to display your aggressive behavior, even landing a few blows to yourself, I felt it would be best to pull you from your slumber. It was a battle to keep you still, so I restrained you with my own vessel. I'm sorry if I only escalated the situation. I strove to produce contrary results."

Once Castiel concluded speaking, both of the companions fell back into a still silence, persisting in lying on their backs and staring off into the world of shadows and darkness surrounding them. The only prominent sound piercing the quietude was the air rushing in and out of their lungs as they each seemed to get lost in their own heads for a brief instant. After settling into the silence for a few moments, Dean broke through the quiet atmosphere, not disturbing it significantly as he spoke in a hushed voice:

"Heh, looks like you pulled me from hell again, my friend," he stated as nonchalantly as he could manage, a twinge of pain and fear causing his voice to break ever so slightly while he whispered.

"Are you... Are you alright?" Castiel questioned, at a loss as to why hearing unease in his friend's voice always seemed to shake him at his core. To the best of his understanding, all that he knew as fact was that he got no pleasure out of hearing or seeing Dean hurting. From the moment he pulled the infamous hunter from Hell, his only motivation was keeping him safe, and somewhere along the line, that translated into emotionally as well. Castiel could genuinely declare that Dean was the strongest being, of any origin, that he had ever crossed paths with, and he was lucky enough to become entangled when their roads intersected; however, at the end of the day, he was still just a man, and Castiel had seen emotional weakness do an equivalent amount of harm to an individual's health as physical injury. The angel fought desperately not to lose his comrade to any external evils, and he certainly did not plan to lose him to his inner demons. It was well established that there remained endless lessons for Castiel to learn; however, he knew that even when dealing with personal demons, it is best to chase them out and rid yourself of them immediately in any way harmlessly possible.

"Yeah, man. I'm, uh... I'm fine, really. I just had a nightmare; nothing that a man like me can't handle, of course, but, you know... To be honest, my life has been such a shit show that I've been too preoccupied to remember my five-star stay in hell. I mean, I've been lucky enough to get through to now without being forced to even dream about that time in my life. I know I'm a whiny bitch for letting a nightmare like that get to me after everything Sam and I have been through since, especially after he had an extended stay in the pit himself, courtesy of Lucifer and Michael, but my vacation there wasn't exactly rainbows and butterflies either. Somewhere deep inside me, I'm still chained to that place, and I don't think I'll ever actually escape it. The nightmare I had... made me relive that torture, something I've left sealed away for a long time. It caught me off guard... enough for me to be blabbing away about my feelings to you like some prepubescent school girl, at least." Dean let out a light chuckle following his speech, bringing his left arm up to cover the top of his face. His laughter sounded hollow to Castiel, like the song of a musician who lacked any soul.

Although he had been endeavoring toward doing the contrary due to his knack for incorrectly expressing himself, the celestial being replied to his companion without contemplating what he would say in advance. "Well, regardless of how realistic your nightmare may have been, the fact still remains that it was just a dream; however, I don't believe you should feel ashamed about the suffering that has lingered from the torture that you were made to endure. To say that Sam's hell was greater does not render yours any less painful. But, in the end, it makes no difference either way. After all, even if you were to truly find yourself back in Hell, I would merely find a way to raise you up again."

Castiel could distinguish Dean lifting his arm from his face and turning his head so that he could search for his friend's silhouette in the darkness. Dean rested his arm to his side again, accidentally lightly grazing the winged man's knuckles with the outside of his hand as he did so. He failed to acknowledge the physical contact, his eyes never ceasing to trail over Castiel's frame through the blackness. Castiel stared back at his comrade, the sight before him much more clear to see. It was obvious to him that Dean's green orbs were searching for something in the night, and despite rationalizing that he was just having a strenuous time of resting his eyes on a particular feature of Castiel's in the dark, the trench coat wearing angel could not shake the feeling that Dean was looking for something more. As he told Castiel earlier, he should not take everything at its surface value; at times, there lies a deeper meaning behind the obvious.

 _"Could it be that he is merely avoiding my gaze? No, I doubt that to be the case. His vision is not clear enough to see me that well in this virtually lightless room anyway. Maybe he's searching for... comfort? With that, I might be onto something. Humans are born needing to be soothed, and it seems that they carry that need throughout the remainder of their lives. I was made to be a warrior. The sense of longing for comfort was not originally instilled into me, so it has been difficult to comprehend the right actions to take when confronted with situations that require solacing in order to be remedied. Offering a hug is typically a good option, but in our current positions on the bed, I'm finding myself gravitating toward a differing approach. His hand brushed against my own and he failed to react, so perhaps I should suggest holding hands. I've seen countless humans take part in the activity, and they always appear to be content when doing so. Come to think of it, I wonder why I've never attempted the gesture before."_ As Castiel wrapped up his inner monologue, he placed his hand backside down on the bed, outstretching his arm slightly toward Dean before speaking out loud.

"I believe I've come to the conclusion that now would be an appropriate time for us to take the next step in regards to our friendship and hold hands. Even you need a comforting presence sometimes. Although, after all that has happened between us, I understand if I'm not ideal to play the role."

Dean glanced down in the direction of Castiel's open palm, blinking a few times as he attempted to process the situation. Appearing to come to the conclusion that the moment he was experiencing was not, in fact, still a part of one of his dreams, he managed to refocus his gaze upon the largely indistinguishable features of Castiel's face before erupting into a fit of laughter.

"Cas, you idiot!" Dean struggled to exclaim as he made an effort to catch his breath. "It's a good thing that you're not half bad at being an angel, because you absolutely blow at being a normal human being. Now, you should know that I'd usually tell someone to take their fist and shove it up their ass if they asked me if I wanted to hold hands like some elementary school girls, but I'll tell you what: since I kind of owe you for pulling me out of my own personal hell again, instead of going Chuck Norris on your ass, I'll teach you the right way to get closer to someone in a situation like this without the awkward teenage boy vibe. You know, to help you out in the future or whatever."

"I would certainly be grateful if you could-" Castiel's sentence was cut short by Dean's lips rapidly colliding into his own. In a series of swift movements that completely took the naive angel off guard, Dean had thrown himself over-top his companion in a way that allowed him to position himself on all-fours, closing the distance between the two wayward men with a forceful kiss.

Growing heat. That was the only way to describe the sensation manifesting within the pit of Castiel's stomach as he locked lips with the man he fell from Heaven for. Though this marked his first experience with pure lust, he could feel the burning temptation threatening to consume him. _"It's fortunate that the flames of Hell aren't as pleasant as that of this supposedly sinful desire lighting a fire inside of me now. Heaven would be littered with vacancies,"_ the celestial being mused to himself, surrendering entirely to this new feeling, not giving so much as a second thought to doing so.

As the tortured hunter began to trail his lips down his companion's neck, Castiel roused from his trance, unsure of where the predicament would lead. "Dean... What are you doing...?" he questioned, noticing that his own breathing had become more erratic.

"Just shut up and let me actually do something in return for all you've done for once, dumbass," Dean replied in a hungry growl, without glancing upward or halting his activities. Sucking aggressively on Castiel's neck, he trailed a hand beneath his guardian's shirt, gently flicking and squeezing his nipples and earning quiet moans in return. "I'm not really in the mood to beat around the bush tonight, so what do you say we get to the good part?" he enticed, rising onto his knees and unbuttoning his pants.

Castiel's eyes wandered up and down Dean's half-naked image, his enchantment at the sight leading him to believe that he must bear more love and appreciation for humanity, particularly in this moment, than any of God's angels had ever experienced before or would ever feel in the eons to come. In an instinctive action he never knew he was even capable being driven by, he reached his right hand upward, placing it on Dean's chest and running it down the length of his frame until his fingertips hit the smooth fabric of the waistband of his friend's boxers. Fleetingly hesitant, he tugged down on the cloth almost tentatively, allowing Dean's fully erect, eight inch dick to spring free from its confines.

"One rule: no teeth," Dean breathed out lustfully while coaxing Castiel into wrapping his fingers around his shaft. Using the context of the elder Winchester brother's short instruction, Castiel propped himself up on his left arm and gently enveloped Dean's cock in his mouth, causing a pleasured whimper to escape from his companion's lips. Interpreting Dean's reaction as a positive one, he pushed himself forward, permitting his dick to slide down his throat. Dean gripped tightly to Castiel's hair, gritting his teeth in satisfaction and forcing his friend to take it in as far as it would reach before beginning to thrust his hips against the amateur's face. He moved at a steady rhythm, not smashing into him with too much force but still making Castiel press himself firmly against him each time he came back in. Feeling himself nearing release, Dean abruptly pulled away, shivering as his cock slipped out of Castiel's mouth.

"Anyone ever tell you that you've got the lips of an angel?" the sexually excited hunter joked through labored breaths, attempting to regain his composure. "Come on, then; show me what I'll be working with."

At the beckoning of his companion, Castiel apprehensively unfastened his belt and pants, slipping them down slightly so to reveal his own seven inch cock. Nodding his head approvingly, Dean shuffled backward a bit and bent forward, getting a firm grasp on Castiel's dick before cramming it into his mouth, though he struggled to mimic the gag-less throat fuck he had received. In order to settle the metaphorical score, he swirled his tongue around the angel's head with expert skill, despite having never partaken in giving fellatio to another man up to this experience. Castiel ran his fingers aggressively through Dean's hair, feeling more like a cat that needed to knead contently than a dog that needed to latch on as Dean had. The warm sensation of the elder brother's mouth engulfing his cock and the feeling of his tongue exploring his head was adding seemingly exponential fuel to the fire that had begun burning in him earlier on in their intimate interaction. All of his lust and desire started to feel as if it were forming into a heavy mass in the core of his being, yearning to be released. "Dean, I... I've never felt... anything like this... I..." Castiel forced out between moans before trailing off, signalling to Dean that he had about reached his limit.

The skilled hunter pulled back unexpectedly, depriving Castiel of his release and leading him to let out an almost childish whine. "Don't worry, Cas. It's not over yet," Dean reassured in a low, raspy voice, sitting up and motioning for Castiel to stand prior to continuing. "There's only one thing standing between you and the best night of your life: your clothes. How about you lose 'em so we can skip to the best part? Oh, but you can keep the coat."

"I was under the impression that this already was the best night of my life," the celestial man chimed in, removing his clothes as he was told, sliding off each garment one by one but remembering to throw his coat back on. Dean stared at him for a moment, forever in awe of his friend's awkward innocence, before offering a heart-felt smile and shaking his head amusedly.

"Heh... Just wanted to be sure we were both on the same page," the elder brother retorted, using his fingers to gesture for Castiel to make his way back onto the bed. "Just get on all-fours. I'll handle the rest."

The fallen angel, a celestial warrior reduced to a fervently lustful excuse for a man faced with the individual who tempted his descent from grace, obediently and wantonly followed the instructions he was given, kneeling onto the bed and then assuming the specified position. Eagerly awaiting the next move, Castiel gazed back over his shoulder, watching Dean locate himself directly behind him.

"Now, I'm no scholar in this particular field of expertise," Dean started, placing a hand on Castiel's ass and spreading one cheek apart from the other a bit before continuing on with his explanation. "But, I'm pretty sure that people are typically supposed to take certain... 'precautions' prior to digging for gold, as I myself am about to. That being said, you aren't a 'typical' kind of guy, in any sense of the word, which leads me to believe that-and trust me, Cas, you might not understand, but I'm taking a huge leap of faith with this, man-I should be able to just dive in raw, no preparation. Just, uh... you know... let me know if things get too uncomfortable for you and we'll go from there if everything else has gone smoothly, okay?"

Concluding his exposition, the elder Winchester brother used his free hand to grasp his cock and guide it to the entrance it needed to fit itself into. Satisfied with his position, he spit on his dick and carefully began to push the tip into the welcoming hole, grunting as he gradually fit himself into his guardian angel.

Castiel clenched the bed sheets, overwhelmed with a mixture of both pain and pleasure. He could feel the walls inside of him stretching, desperately attempting to accommodate the large foreign object breaching them. It was a bond he could never have imagined-a union of two beings, not just physically but spiritually as well. Any discomfort that he was feeling as Dean took him from behind was almost instantly overwhelmed by a wave of pleasure that melted him to his very core. He involuntarily pushed his hips into Dean, driving Dean's dick into his depths. The confident hunter allowed a loud, pleasured growl to escape from him before bending forward and wrapping his right hand around Castiel's cock. He began stroking it dexterously, speeding up and then slowing down at just the right moments, and thrusting his hips against the winged man's ass with similar rhythm and skill; his strokes fit perfectly with the movement of Castiel's body as he clumsily pined for more by continuing to push himself back into Dean.

Both of the wayward men panted and moaned wildly, letting go of any and all inhibitions as they lustfully solidified their bond. Their passionate noises echoed throughout the dark room, disrupting the once still and silent night air with the ardent sounds of their union. As Dean thrusted into him time and time again, Castiel could feel the heavy mass of lust and desire forming deep within him once more, nearly delivering him to his breaking point. The increasingly sporadic nature of Dean's movements indicated that he was also reaching his limit, unable to hold himself back any longer. He slammed into the angel as forcefully as his tired body would permit, making certain not to neglect stroking Castiel's cock amidst the chaos. In an eruption of temptation in its most sinful form, the elder brother emptied all of his pent up frustration and desire into his companion as Castiel spewed his load onto the bed sheets, collapsing while his body spasmed slightly from his release; his arms and legs had buckled out from under him, but as opposed to being a result of the physical strain of the encounter (of course, it was nothing to a soldier of God), it was due to the sheer sense of relaxation and satisfaction he felt all at once and for the first time in that moment-a guilty pleasure he could not have envisioned experiencing. Yet, as always, Dean Winchester had made what seemed impossible, possible for him.

Dean collapsed onto his back to the side of Castiel, who had just face-planted into the pillows himself, panting heavily while trying to compose himself. Swallowing a sizable gasp of air, he caught his breath enough to speak.

"Well, uh... I'm not really sure what to say... Wish I had a decent zinger to end this off on a smooth note." Dean chuckled nervously at his own words in an attempt to hide his embarrassment. "Usually, I have pretty words lined up to finish the night off right, but sugar-coated lies don't exactly feel like the right thing to resort to with you."

"Why don't you inform me as to whether or not you were comforted by our intercourse?" the winged man forwardly inquired, once again permitting his childish curiosity and unbridled bluntness to cloud him from social normality.

Dean scoffed light-heartedly at his friend's question. "Dammit, Cas. You make shit so friggin' awkward sometimes, you know that? But, if I were to humor you with an answer, I'd say... yeah. I'm feeling like I could knock out right about now and catch some peaceful 'ZZZ's."

"I'm pleased to hear that," Castiel responded, his lips forming into a slight grin at hearing that his goal had been achieved. "You should get some rest, then, to make up for the lackluster slumber you had earlier."

"Well, that sounds like a swell plan to me, but... what about you? I mean, angels don't need shut eye, so..."

"You're correct about that. I suppose I will find a way to preoccupy my time elsewhere, as I know it causes you discomfort for me to remain present while you sleep," Cas stated as he began to make his way off of the bed, halting when he felt the hunter's fingers around his wrist.

"About that, Cas... Why don't you just lay here and, I dunno, day-dream or something?" Dean offered, his eyes fixed downward in embarrassment at his suggestion. "I'm assuming you're at least capable of doing that. Just an option. Take it or leave it. I'm going back to sleep. Night." He fumbled through the remainder of his worlds before hurriedly turning away from Castiel.

The angel did not bother to respond to his companion's offer, instead silently lying back down in indication of his decision. _"Day-dreaming, huh?"_ he pondered privately, allowing his eyes to slide shut as he once again listened to the sound of Dean breathing. _"It's difficult to imagine anything that I long for more than to savor the dream that is becoming reality tonight."_

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A/N: Hello, readers! I genuinely hope you enjoyed the story. This marks my first Supernatural fanfiction. I'm super late to the fandom but have been binge watching episodes, and Castiel and Dean breathe life into me. Haha! I would absolutely love to write a Destiel chapter story if this one is received positively. Thanks so much for reading, and I hope you'll join me for the next fanfiction! If you're feeling social, I would appreciate hearing your thoughts and/or suggestions!


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